by Lynne Phillips
Zacji didn’t feel the bites, but as his body heated, his arm began to itch. Hundreds of tiny larvae wriggled in waves under his skin emerging through his pores, their heads taking a breath before disappearing and wriggling again. They moved like rivulets along his arm towards his shoulder.
Using the edge of his knife he frantically scraped his arm, removing his skin and the larvae, seeking relief.
Realising they had moved across his shoulders and down his left arm, squirming towards his wrist, emerging as bot flies, Zacji screamed in agony and collapsed, unable to bear the paralysing pain.